θάνατος Death
by the-assistant's-blog
Summary: Cormac is dead, Molly is missing, Mycroft isn't answering his phone, Lestrade is puzzled, Anderson is being his annoying self, John and Sherlock are on the case, and a mysterious man shows up at a privet meeting. Is the consulting criminal involved?
1. Chimes of Death

**Chimes of Death**

John and Sherlock were walking in the park when it started. It was around 9 in the evening when dozens of police alarms started blaring. Instinctively and unconsciously, John ducked and covered his ears. Sound. That part of the war never left him, even though years had distanced him from the event.

"A murder!" Sherlock exclaimed as he clapped his hands. "Wonderful!"

"Wonderful?" John questioned. "And how do you know it was a murder? The alarms- "

"Oh John, I can just feel it! Can't you?"

The doctor looked at him as if he were crazy- which everyone thought he was.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be SO boring!" Then he took off running and his assistant followed reluctantly.

As they were running, Sherlock's phone rang, he answered it without stopping.

"Sherlock Holmes. Yes, I know it's a murder. Reichenbach Way. Got it. Be there in a flash." He hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket.

"Who was that?"

"Who do you think?" When John didn't answer, he sighed and said, "Mycroft."

The rest of the journey to the crime scene was silent.


	2. What Happened on Reichenbach Way

**What Happened on Reichenbach Way**

**(δρόμο θανάτους)**

It was about 8:30 in the evening, when Cormac had reached his destination. A sign- half falling off- read θάνατος. _I've seen that writing somewhere before... _he the thought passed him as quickly as it came.

"You sure this is where you want? This place ain't been used for 'bout 20 years," the cab driver said.

"Yes," said Cormac quietly. "I'm quite sure." He gazed out the window.

"You want me to stick around?"

"No, no, that won't be necessary. Thank you" he got out of the car, and closed the cabby's door very gracefully.

He was very cautious as he approached the building; quiet, alert, yet very scared. _What if I'm wrong? What if I've failed? _he thought. Cormac glanced at what was in his hand, and then shook his head. _Impossible. _He kept walking to the building. The place was filthy, dark and had a musty smell. _I guess he's not here... _His hand was in his pocket, searching for his phone, when something snapped.

A voice, which sounded entirely bored, said, "I'm a bit disappointed in you. I really thought you would recognize the writing on the sign." Cormac turned whipped to face the sign. _θάνατος. Obviously Greek..._

As if to read his mind, the voice said, "Yes dear, it is Greek. But what does it mean?" The question had a mockingly shocked tone to it. Then it hit him. _Death_. He had seen that in his school book many, many years ago.

"But-"

"Yes. It does mean death. I thought you would have remembered high school." Suddenly the branches rustled and a woman stepped out.

"You!"

"I'm a little shocked you didn't figure all this out before now... Wait, no I'm not. You never were a bright one." She wore a lab coat that fell to her knees, her brown hair tied back. One hand was in her pocket, and the other held a cell phone, which she was looking at intently. "Hand it over, dear." She removed her hand from her pocket and held it out to Cormac.

"Where is he? Where's Moriarty?" he demanded, ignoring her question.

"Did you honestly think that was for real? Ha!" Her laugh was light and attractive in an inhumanly way. "How gullible the human race is these days. No. He's not coming. Ever. Give it to me, now."

"And if I don't?"

"You know what will happen."

"You're going to kill me?"

She smiled a secretive smile. "Oh let's not be obvious, dear."

"I'll never give it to _you_," there was a snarl in his voice.

"Hmm... Really is a pity. I could have grown to like you. Oh well. All good things come to an end, but there will always be evil" She cocked the gun.

"Moriarty!" and a gun went off. But then another gun went off, which threw Cormac off, because he had only felt one bullet. On the ground, writhing in pain, he turned his head in time to see Molly Hooper buckling to the ground. A man in black was staring down at her with a gun in his hand. The man turned and winked at Cormac. A smile formed on the shot man's wet lips, as he fell into an endless sleep.


	3. Crime Scene

**Crime Scene**

As Sherlock and John arrived, the area had already been blocked off by tape, and police were standing all around. And of course, Anderson was there too.

"Sherlock! What are you doing here?" He didn't wait for an answer. "This is MY crime scene. Back- "

Sherlock glanced casually about him. "Anderson, there's just been a murder. If I were you, which I certainly am not, I would keep quiet and move." He said this with such softness, that even Anderson looked surprised.

"Now whatever you are getting at- " Anderson began, but Sherlock interrupted.

"Getting at? What am I getting at?" He asked innocently. Then he patted Anderson's shoulder and winked. "Keep it together."

"Sorry," John muttered as he followed Sherlock. He dared to glance back, and Anderson was scowling fiercely.

"Anderson, wipe that incredibly ridiculous look off your face. You look like you're constipated," Sherlock called. The look disappeared immediately.

* * *

Lestrade was facing the taped off area as Sherlock and John approached.

"What happened?" Sherlock demanded.

"Ah, Sherlock, you're here. Well, not much to go by. But we got- "

"Lestrade, I'm not interested in what _you_ got."

"Umm, well, he was coming out of an old restaurant- that one," Lestrade pointed to a little shack in the corner. "Cormac Goldsmith, age 40. That sign- "θάνατος" might play a part, but I can't read Greek."

"Death."

"What?" Lestrade looked at Sherlock, completely lost.

"Death!" Sherlock threw his hands up. "That's what it means!"

"That's what... what means?" Lestrade asked hesitantly.

"The SIGN!" yelled Sherlock angrily.

Lestrade seemed to be taken aback, but continued. "Well we don't know what he was doing here. And- where are you going?" Sherlock had started walking towards the shack. He bent down, paused, then stood up and walked back.

"What were you-" John asked.

"Shut up John. Continue, Lestrade."

"Umm," Lestrade glanced at the assistant. "What? Oh yes, the murder. Sorry. Please look" He extended his hand towards the dead man.

Sherlock bent over, and started rambling off details that no one else could have got. "Obviously higher class. Suit looks almost new, but who would buy a suit to go to a shack? So that means he's well off and buys many suits. The wound was in the middle of his chest, but tilting towards the left. Gun was shot by a woman, no man has an unsteady hand like that. His shoes-" Sherlock stopped and scrapped stuff off.

"What are you-" Lestrade started.

"John, look at this in the lab with Molly, and compare it to this." He gave him something wrapped in a cloth. Then Sherlock walked away calling, "Lestrade, tell me when you've found more information."

"Where's Mycroft?" John inquired, turning to Lestrade. But Lestrade was already walking off. "Ok, then…" John turned and walked in the direction of St. Bart's.


	4. Where is Molly Hooper?

**What Happened to Molly Hooper?**

"Molly?" John asked as he stepped into the lab. He clasped the things Sherlock wanted him to look at tightly in his hand. _That's odd… _the doctor thought to himself. _It's only 9:30, she should still be here…_

One of the workers came into the room and said, "Oh John, I didn't realize you were here. Sorry."

"No, that's fine. Have you seen Molly Hooper?"

"Hmm. No I haven't. She left the building about 8 o'clock. Said she had to go somewhere and asked if I would lock up when I was done."

"Oh, alright. Thank you. I'm just looking at this, and then I'll lock up for you."

"Thanks."

The doctor made no connection between Molly and Cormac's disappearance.

John had just finished setting up when the door opened and in came Sherlock. "Got anything yet, John?"

"No, I just finished setting up now."

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh. "Does it honestly take you _that_ long to look at some dirt?" Sherlock sat down and examined the dirt specimens under the microscope. Finally, he spoke up. "He didn't go in."

"I'm sorry?" John said.

"Cormac, he didn't go into the building. The dirt doesn't match up at all. He was facing away from the building as if he had been walking away. So if he walked up to the building, but didn't go in, how did he die?"

As he was questioning this, Lestrade burst into the room. "Sherlock, Sherlock!" he looked around frantically.

"I'm right here, Lestrade. Keep your-"

"Sherlock she was there!" Lestrade rambled.

"Wait, who was where?"

"Molly Hooper!"

"Yes, but _where_ was she?" Sherlock demanded harshly.

"At the crime scene! Anderson found some blood near a bush near Cormac and he tested it and said he had seen this blood somewhere else. He compared it to every type O blood sample we have. It matched Molly's perfectly…"

Sherlock stood up so fast his stool knocked over. "WHAT?"

"Sherlock… You don't think- you don't think she _killed_ him, do you?"

"If she did, then why was her blood in the dirt?"

John gasped suddenly. "Sherlock, one of the lab people came in when I was setting up. He told me that Molly had left around 8, she didn't tell anyone where she was going, just that she had to go somewhere…"

"No, no. Molly wouldn't do something like that…" But Sherlock sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"If Molly did do it, where is she now?" Lestrade questioned. "Also, why would she do it?" Lestrade quickly glanced at Sherlock. "That is- if she did it…"

Silence greeted his questions. No one wanted to believe that Molly Hooper- once a friend of theirs- would kill someone.


	5. The Update

**The Update**

A man with a pinstriped suit and a black waistcoat on sat at his desk. His fingers drummed the wood impatiently. _He's late,_ the man thought. But a smile slowly spread across his face. _Oh well. It's his loss._ The man turned to the file cabinet beside him and opened the drawer. He took out what was inside and placed it on the desk. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

_Knock, knock, knock_, the noise was barely audible. But the man at the desk heard it.

"Enter," he snapped.

A small man entered the room, shaking violently. "Hello, sir."

"You're late" the man in the suit said quietly. "But never mind that. How did it go?"

"W-well, sir…"

"What."

"Cormac _is_ dead."

"Good. Now-"

"But, sir…"

"You dare interrupt me! This better be good. Spit it out!"

"Molly is missing."

Whirling on the small man, the man in black picked up what was on the desk and pinned the small man to the wall. "WHAT? YOU SAID YOU PICKED A PLACE WHERE NO ONE WOULD INTERFERE." Then he hissed, "Who in the _world_ could have interfered?" He stared at the small man and then turned away, releasing his grip.

The small man slunk down to the floor and stuttered, "I-I don't know sir…"

"Of course you don't. They'll probably be meeting in Lestrade's room. Go."

"But, M-"

"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO CALL ME BY THAT NAME." The man with the gun whirled on the smaller one and shot him in the chest. _Oh well. So much for him. Now who to send…_ Then his eyes fell on a militia envelope on his desk. He opened it and thought _Ahh, yes. He will do very nicely._


	6. The Injection

**The Injection**

Many days later, John sat in his flat, 221B Baker Street, alone. He sighed and looked up to God in frustration. _I'm getting nowhere. Lestrade has me solving a murder with nothing to go by, but some dirt... _he thought to himself. The clock read midnight exactly. _This case can't be solved overnight. Where the hell is Sherlock? _Just then, his phone buzzed.

_Office. Sherlock is already here. ~ Lestrade_

_On my way. ~ JW_

John sighed and packed up his things, turned out the lights, and walked out. It was cold and rainy outside, so the doctor was glad for the warmth of his coat. _Not exactly the type of weather for a stroll. Lestrade, this better be good..._

* * *

As he climbed the stairs to Lestrade's office, he noticed there were hardly any lights on. _Apparently Lestrade wants this meeting to be secret... Who would be up at this hour anyways? _John paused and thought further. _In this place, anyone._ He glanced nervously behind him and jogged the rest of the way up the stairs that seemed to have grown narrower. At the top of the stairs, there were three distinct voices- all voices that John knew well: Lestrade, Mycroft and Sherlock. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument as John entered the room.

"We have no proof!" Lestrade argued angrily and slammed his hand so hard that his coffee spilled.

"Careful," Mycroft soothed, "You're going to wake up the whole neighborhood." He smiled as he said this. But his smile wasn't reassuring by any means. It was more of a "don't go too far" smile.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed, throwing his hands out, and breaking the awkward silence that had followed Mycroft's eerie words.

"What the hell-" Mycroft began, his eyes, narrow and glaring. But he wasn't glaring at the doctor.

"I have what you need," interrupted a silky voice. At first no one was visible, but then a short man with a black briefcase stepped forward, and leaned casually against the doorframe, his fabricated hat over his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Lestrade yelled, "This is a private-"

"I come not to offend," his hands were held up innocently, a smile pulling at his lips. "You've been working on this case for what- almost a week now? Don't you feel you've kept the public waiting long enough? Soon everyone will have forgotten Cormac Goldsmith. And where are you right now? Hmm?" John opened his mouth, but apparently the man didn't want an answer. "You are sitting here with no proof, no witness, and nothing to go by except Cormac's personal information, oh and some dirt. Which, by the way, says almost NOTHING."

"We are getting along fine," Sherlock growled. "Leave now." He then turned his back on the man and stared at the desk.

"Sherlock, do- do you know this man?" John asked hesitantly.

"My dear John, why speak with such uncertainty? Of course Sherlock knows me. He knows _everyone_." the man stepped inside the room and shut the door, the lock clicked. Lestrade drew his gun and cocked it. "Oh put that away Lestrade. That's a bit childish, wouldn't you agree?"

"Get out!" Sherlock yelled, drew his own gun, and whirled on the man.

"Hmm, you know that won't do. I have what you need. Without me, you're case is hopeless and you will all _FAIL_." He stretched the word "fail" with a bored and stressed tone of voice.

Suddenly John cried out as his knees buckled. The man in black had dipped his hand into his bag, and injected something into the assistant's neck before anyone could react.

"John!" Sherlock surged forward and caught John's head. A gun went off, but it didn't hit the target. John heard the door open and close, but then the world went black.


	7. The Wakeing

**The Wake(ing)  
**

**A/N: The title is this way for a reason. A wake occurs after someone has died, whereas waking occurs when someone is living. It symbolizes how John is between life and death right now, slipping in and out of consciousness. I'm sorry if it confuses some of you!**

In was about 8 in the morning when John became conscious enough to speak. "What's happening?" John said in a groggy voice. His vision hadn't totally cleared, but he saw Sherlock leap up and rush to his side.

"John! How are you feeling?" Sherlock grasp on John's arm was firm, but at the same time gentle.

"Sherlock-? Where-" John tried to sit up, but he collapsed back onto the pillow. "Oww. My head," the doctor moaned.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" Sherlock asked frantically.

"Everywhere..."

"Do you want-" Sherlock turned his head as Lestrade entered the room.

Sherlock glanced at John and said, "I won't be long. I'll fetch the doctor too." John tried to respond but only managed a head movement somewhere between a nod and a shake and then slipped from the world. Sherlock hated leaving his friend, even for a little bit, but he had to talk to Lestrade in private.

* * *

Once they were out of the room and the door was closed, Lestrade said, "How is he?"

"I'm not sure... He never comes around for more than a few minutes." For once, Sherlock sounded utterly defeated and worn out.

"Listen, Sherlock. About that man-"

"Lestrade, I haven't slept all night. John has been drifting in and out of consciousness all night. The doctors can't define what was injected into him. I've tried calling Mycroft, but he's being his annoying self and not answering his phone. I would really prefer not to discuss this at the present moment."

"Mr. Holmes?" A voice asked, before Lestrade could answer Sherlock.

Sherlock whipped around and came face to face with a short man, partially bald, with round glasses. His face was wise, somber, and had smile creases, but he wasn't smiling now.

"Mr. Holmes?" He asked again, but this time he looked at Lestrade, too.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied. "Who are you?"

"I am Dr. Frasier. I have some news on you friend, Dr. Watson."

"What is it?" Sherlock said eagerly, his eyes lighting up. Lestrade stepped closer to hear the news.

"It's not good news..." Dr. Frasier sighed. "I'm afraid he's slipped into a coma."


	8. One More Miracle

**One More Miracle**

After Sherlock heard the news he pushed passed Dr. Frasier and ran into John's room, Lestrade following quickly.

"John! John! Can you hear me?" Sherlock sounded desperate and close to tears.

Dr. Frasier entered the room and placing a hand on Sherlock's arm, gently said, "Mr. Holmes, he's in a coma. He can't-"

"I know what a bloody coma is!" Sherlock yelled, whirling on the doctor, but then turning back to his friend.

"Mr. Holmes, please." Dr. Frasier voice was slightly angry, and strained. "He can still hear. Hearing is the last sense to go before someone-"

"He's not going to die!" Sherlock yelled, paying no attention to his volume level. Sherlock sighed deeply, his eyes tearing up now. "Please leave."

"Of course…" The doctor replied, and quietly stepped out. But Lestrade hadn't moved.

"Lestrade, please." Sherlock said without turning. Lestrade opened his mouth, but then closed it and slipped out.

"John… Oh please. We haven't finished this case. You can't go now…" Sherlock bowed his head, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

About half and hour later, Lestrade woke Sherlock up.

"Sherlock, it's time to go." He shook Sherlock and Sherlock stirred. "We need to give Dr. Frasier some space.

Sherlock immediately awoke and looked at Lestrade. "To do what?"

"I just want to examine him. I need more blood samples too. We're still trying to identify the poison that was injected into him. I suggest you go home, and rest up."

Sherlock hesitated and then spat, "Fine".

"Thank you," Dr. Frasier said, holding the door open.

As Sherlock and Lestrade were exiting, a woman came in. "Who's this?" Sherlock said sharply.

"Mr. Holmes, this is Mrs. Doerfler. She's a nurse here, and she's going to help me examine Mr. Watson." Dr. Frasier explained. "She'll call you when we've finished.

"Alright," Sherlock said hesitantly, and then walked out, Lestrade following close behind.

* * *

After they left the hospital, Lestrade went with Sherlock back to his flat. As they walked in, Mrs. Hudson was coming down the stairs.

"Sherlock, dear. I heard about John. Is he alright?" the landlady asked in a concerned voice. But Sherlock just walked right past her.

"Coma," Lestrade said, and then followed Sherlock up.

"Oh my…" Mrs. Hudson said to herself and went back up to 221B. Sherlock was playing the violin by the window when she entered He was playing a traditional funeral song- maybe even subconsciously. But he stopped as soon as she entered.

"Tea, Mrs. Hudson. Please," Sherlock said in a tight voice.

"Just this once," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Tea, Lestrade?"

"Oh, yes please, Mrs. Hudson." Lestrade replied. "Sherlock?"

"Please don't talk to me" Sherlock whispered and stared out the window. The flat then plunged into a silence that would last hours.

Around 3 in the afternoon, Sherlock's phone rang. Since Sherlock had started playing the violin again, Lestrade picked it up and put it on speaker phone. But Sherlock said, "Sherlock Holmes".

"_Mr. Holmes? This is Mrs. Doerfler from the hospital. Dr. Frasier is ready for you to come back"_

"I'm on my way," he called as he walked out the door. Lestrade hung up the phone and walked out after Sherlock.

"I'll just stay here…" Mrs. Hudson said.

"No, please come," Sherlock said popping his head back in the doorway. Mrs. Hudson then followed Sherlock out.

* * *

"How is he?" Sherlock demanded in a stern voice as he strode into the room.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," the doctor greeted. "Well what Mr. Watson was injected with isn't like any other substance. So most likely, this was specially made for the occasion. It was a mixture of many deadly poisons. Poisons that attack either or both of the two most important parts of the body: the heart and the brain. The other things in the mixture acted as more of a guide that lead the poison right into the bloodstream, which then would be carried to the brain or heart along with the blood. This being the case, where Mr. Watson was injected is irrelevant because the substance sill would have made it's way to the destination if it had been injected elsewhere.

Sherlock didn't interrupt the doctor as he spoke. Only after Dr. Frasier had finished speaking did Sherlock say, "What about John?"

"As far as Mr. Watson goes… Well it doesn't look too good. He's still alive, but his brain is shutting down. Luckily, the substance found a pathway that lead to the brain instead of the heart. If it had attacked the heart, Mr. Watson would have died right at the scene. He's alive now, but be prepared for the worst, Mr. Holmes." Dr. Frasier said gravely. "I will leave you three with him for a moment."

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were at the foot of John's bed and Sherlock was kneeling at his side. No one spoke for a long time. They were all remembering John as he used to be. Upbeat and always ready for a mission. They all were praying that he would wake up soon.

Finally, Sherlock said, "Can you leave us for a moment?"

"Yes," Lestrade said, and he lead Mrs. Hudson out of the room.

Sherlock started sobbing as soon as they left. He picked up John's hand, held it tightly and willed him to wake up. About 15 minutes was spent that way, but the doctor didn't stir. At last, Sherlock stood up, took a step back, but then knelt back down again, whispering, "One more thing. One more miracle, John, for me. Don't be… dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop, just stop this…" Then he stood up slowly, and started treading out. But out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw movement.

"Sherlock." the doctor whispered.


	9. The Second Update

**The Second Update**

**A/N: I reloaded this chapter because I basically rewrote it, and I didn't want people to miss the change. I removed "A Close Call" because I though it drifted too far from the plot. I'm sorry!**

"You should have called" chimed a man sitting at his desk, as the door opened.

"Yes… Well I had to attend to business first," said the man who had just walked in. He was a short man, partially bald, with round glasses.

"Tell me," said the man at the desk, "Just how did your mission go?"

"I did just as you asked, sir. The chemical did its work. Dr. Watson is in the hospital and in a coma."

"Good, good…" the man sitting muttered. "What else?"

"Sherlock is with him now. I'm not sure if Dr. Watson will die. Would you like-"

"What I would like is this: keep Mr. Watson at the hospital as long as you can. Even- if by some miracle- he awakes.

"But what do I tell him?"

"What do you tell him? You are a doctor of medicine, and he is an army doctor. He shouldn't question you. Tell him whatever you like! Make it convincing." The man in the chair spun around to face the shorter man. "Now is that hard?"

"No, sir."

"Good," the boss said as he turned his chair around.

Taking that as a dismissal, the short man left quietly. _This is not going to be as easy as he made it sound_ the man with glasses thought.


	10. Surveillance

**Surveillance**

**A/N: As you probably read in the previous chapter, I changed around the story. Please read the chapter before this so you don't get confused. I'm sorry for changing it! Please review! :)**

"Sherlock, dear," Mrs. Hudson called as Sherlock ran past. Then she turned to Lestrade saying, "What do you think happened?"

"I don't know," replied the detective inspector. "We better go see."

When they walked into John's room, they found him staring at them smiling. "I knew someone would come in," whispered the doctor.

"John!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"You need to find Sherlock." At the doctor's request, Lestrade turned and went to find Sherlock.

Lestrade went to the main desk where Mrs. Doerfler was working. "Page Sherlock! John's awake."

"Sherlock Holmes please go to John Watson's room. Again, Sherlock Holmes to Mr. Watson's room," Mrs. Doerfler's voice echoed.

In a few moment, Sherlock came running in. "John, John!" He cried.

"I'm here Sherlock," the doctor smiled. Suddenly Dr. Frasier came in.

"Well Mr. Watson… You seem to have woken up," Dr. Frasier remarked bitterly. John was taken aback by the Dr. Frasier's tone.

"Yes…" John said suspiciously. "Now we can get back to the case! It's been so long…"

"Ah.. Mr. Watson, we would prefer to keep you here."

"What?" Sherlock said. "He's awake though. We need to finish this case Dr. Frasier."

"Yes, well… Best if we keep him here for a bit. Just so he can recover." Before anyone could disagree, Dr. Frasier turned around and briskly walked out of the room. Once he was out of the room, he sent a text.

_Doctor is awake. ~ D.F_

_Finish the job. ~ Boss_

_Kill? Or just keep him here? ~ D.F_ There was no reply to the doctor's text.

* * *

Back in Sherlock's room, the conversation was hushed.

"Something's not right," Sherlock said.

"He just wants to keep an eye on John," Mrs. Hudson remarked.

"No. The way he said it. Did you see how he hesitated? And tried to be firm? It was almost as if someone told him to say that to John." With that, Sherlock walked out of the room, phone in hand.

"_Ahh. Sherlock. How are you?" _Mycroft said.

"Mycroft, what do you know about Dr. Frasier?"

"_Not much, dear brother. Why do you ask?"_

"Put him under surveillance."

"_Now why is that?"_

"No reason. I'm just suspicious of him. Will you do that Mycroft?"

At first, there was no reply. _"Well… You are my brother. I suppose I have to. How are you coming with the case?"_

"Great. As soon as John is allowed to leave the hospital."

"_Oh I see."_

"Thank you, Mycroft." Then Sherlock hung up the phone.

* * *

Mycroft sat at his desk, phone still in hand. _Well,_ he thought,_ this is going to get sticky_. He opened his phone and dialed a number.

"Yes, this is Mycroft Holmes…" Mycroft spun his chair around and gazed out over the large city as if he controlled it all.


	11. The Beginning of the End

**The Beginning of the End**

"Because John can't leave the hospital to work on the crime, I decided to bring the crime to John." Lestrade said as he walked in with a briefcase.

"Good thinking, Lestrade." Sherlock said.

"Well, let's get to work." John sighed.

* * *

At that same time far out in the country, a car was driving up to a small shack. A man stepped out, and walked into the shack. It was dark and had a musty smell. When the man walked in, someone gasped.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice said shakily.

"Calm down, Molly, dear. This is for your own good." The man was dressed in all black, so she couldn't make out who it was visually, but after a while, she figured out who it was by the sound of his voice.

"Moriarty!" Molly said softly.

"Hush, you'll attract attention. You've only just woken up, I don't want to have to shoot you again."

"But… Why?"

"Why? Well Why did you kill Cormac?"

"It wasn't me!"

"Oh. So the gun in your hand fired on its own?" Jim said sarcastically.

"I mean I didn't want to! I was hired-" Molly clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Hmm… Interesting." Just then there was a buzz. Moriarty reached in his pocket and drew out his phone. There was a pause, and then Moriarty said, "Oops, I've got to run. Sorry, dear. Boss's orders." He was about to leave when he turned around and looked at Molly."

"What?"

Jim walked over to Molly, drew something else out of his pocket and stabbed Molly. "Wouldn't want you messing up this crime, now would we?"

* * *

Once Jim was in his car, he said, "Boss's place," to his driver and they were on their way.

When the car pulled up, Jim's door was opened. "Hello."

"Hello," said a woman's voice. "In his office."

Jim got out of his car and climbed the stepped to the office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a voice. The door opened and Moriarty walked in. He found a man dressed in black sitting in a chair at a desk. "They've suspected one of my workers. Because they can't afford to be caught, you must turn yourself in."

"What?" Jim cried.

"I hired you, and you will do as I say. Unless you want me to report you. I suggest you report yourself though. To avoid harsh punishment."

"But-"

"No buts," the boss said sternly." Then he turned around in his chair, putting his back towards Jim. "That is all. You may go now."

Jim said nothing and just walked out, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Back in John's hospital room, the trio was getting nowhere. All of a sudden, Lestrade cried, "Yes!"

"What?" Sherlock and John said simultaneously.

"The man said he knew Sherlock. He also said he had a lot of information. Also he was equipped. I know people can change their voices, but I think I know the man who injected John."

"Who?" Sherlock and John chimed together.

"Moriarty." Lestrade concluded.


	12. Wrongly Accused

**Wrongly Accused**

_Screech!_

"What was that?" Moriarty demanded. The car door opened and Moriarty looked up in time to see two men yank him from the car. The next moment he was standing in front of Mycroft, hands held behind him by two guards.

"You are under arrest." Mycroft said slyly.

"Mycroft!" Jim growled.

"Don't utter a word, Mr. Moriarty." Jim got the feeling he was talking about something more than just words in his defense.

"What am I under arrest for?"

"The murder of Cormac, of course." Mycroft smiled.

"I didn't kill him!"

"That's what they all say," Mycroft mused. "Lestrade, Sherlock and John all think you did though. And me being the government, it is my duty to arrest you. Follow me." Jim was then walked down the sidewalk. They turned a corner and entered a building with the door open.

"Where are we?"

"Why isn't it obvious? The police station. You are going to jail. Imagine, the famous "Consulting Criminal" in jail!"

"Trial?"

"Absolutely not. You know why." Mycroft said with a knowing look at Jim.

"Can I speak to you alone?"

"Hmm…" Mycroft thought. "Fine." he turned to the guards and said, "Leave us. But don't go too far in case Mr. Moriarty gets any ideas." With that, the two guards left Mycroft and Moriarty. Mycroft showed Moriarty to a room and closed the door.

"What are you doing?" Moriarty cried.

"Simply as it seems. Arresting you. I forgot that Lestrade isn't all that dumb. I didn't expect him to put together the puzzle pieces. But this way works just as well."

"Why don't you turn yourself in?"

"Because I didn't kill Cormac."

"Oh I see…"

"You do, do you? Then you know who should be arrested in your place?"

"Molly…"

"Indeed. So either you take blame or you fetch your former girlfriend and turn her in."

Moriarty said nothing as he paced around.

"Hard decision isn't it?" Mycroft said softly.

"And what happens if I turn _you_ in?"

"What for?"

"Instigating this."

"Really, the consulting criminal turning in the British government. Now who do you think the police would believe? I await your decision, Mr. Moriarty." Mycroft then exited the room and locked it behind him.

Moriarty sat at the desk that was in the small room and folded his hands. He brought them to his lips and breathed deeply, his thoughts miles away from the police station.


	13. Help from a Consultant

**Help from a Consultant**

After about an hour Moriarty stood up. He was smiling as he knocked on the door that was locked. Mycroft opened it.

"Made your decision?"

"Yes," Jim said simply and walked past Mycroft. The guards moved from their post beside the door and started to go after him.

"Wait," Mycroft said. "Let him go."

"But-," one of the guards began.

"I know where he's going." Mycroft held up something in his hand. It was small, but had a screen. It showed a map of the town and a red dot.

"Is that-"

"Yes," Mycroft muttered. "That's him." Unbeknownst to Jim, Mycroft had attached something to the tip of Jims waistcoat.

* * *

After Moriarty had exited the building he felt something hitting his leg as he walked. He turned around and saw Mycroft's tracker. Mycroft had put the tracker clumsily on the part of the waistcoat where Moriarty's leg hit it. Jim didn't remove it, but merely smiled as he kept walking. He then took out his phone and dialed a number.

"_Moriarty?"_ Sherlock's shocked voice answered his call.

"Yes, Sherlock. It's me. Mycroft's got a tracking device on me."

Sherlock ignored Moriarty's statement. _"Were you the one who injected John? And did you kill Cormac? Do you know where Molly is?"_

"Yes, no, yes," Jim said. "Look, could you just help me?"

"_If you will help us with this case."_

"Fine. I know who killed Cormac, I know who injected John, I know where Molly is, and I know who the instigator is! Now help me!"

"That doesn't give me any information, Moriarty," Sherlock said softly.

"Molly killed Cormac, I injected John, I captured Molly (after she killed Cormac) and I can't tell you the last part…"

"Fine. I'll help you." Then Sherlock hung up.


	14. Buttons of SelfDestruct

**Buttons of Self-Destruct**

Sherlock picked up his phone and dialed a number.

"What's going on, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Moriarty needs our help."

"_What_?" Lestrade exclaimed.

Sherlock didn't respond, but spoke into his phone instead. "Hello, Mycroft. We need your help with the case."

"_I think it's something more than that, brother."_

"Fine. Do you know where Moriarty is?"

"_Ah, yes. I do believe I know where he is."_

"Mycroft don't try to be smart. Where are you?"

"_Out attending to business."_

"Well please come here."

"_I'll be there as soon as I can, brother." _With that, the elder Holmes hung up the phone.

* * *

"You're actually going to go over there?"

"My brother is smart, but so am I. Let's just pray Moriarty isn't as smart." Mycroft said as he pushed a button on the tracking device. He went out to the back of the building where he had talked with Moriarty and looked around.

"No one better be around," Mycroft muttered. After he made sure that no one was near, not even the men who were with him before, he pushed another button on the device. Then, he threw it as hard as he could over a fence and into the woods. The device exploded in midair and the pieces fell into the trees. Mycroft brushed his hands and went to get into his car.

* * *

Moriarty was walking aimlessly around town, waiting for Sherlock's help when he heard a beep. He turned around and saw no one, but heard something drop to the ground. He looked down and saw that the tracking device had dislodged itself from his waistcoat.

"Oh no…" he said. Thinking fast, he grabbed a blue recycling bin that was empty near a telephone pole. He flipped the bin upside down, covering the tracker, and put all of his weight on it. He also grabbed the telephone pole and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he was blown into the air, along with the blue bin. It wasn't too big of an explosion, but it was enough to blur his vision. When it cleared, he looked around. The bin had been throw across the street, but the pieces of the tracker were pretty close together.

He collected the pieces and put them in his pocket. Luckily, he had been on a side street which no one was on. Moriarty smiled and said, "Not as dumb as you think, Mycroft."


	15. The Truth Comes Out

_**The Truth Comes Out**_

"So where is he?" Sherlock inquired when Mycroft walked John's hospital room.

"Well, I seem to have lost him on the way here."

"Clever, Mycroft," Moriarty said as he walked in. "But I'm not too bad myself." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the bits of tracker.

"Mycroft, why were you trying to track Moriarty?"

"And so the truth comes out…" Mycroft said quietly.

"What truth?" Lestrade asked.

Moriarty pointed at Mycroft. "He is the instigator." Then he spoke directly to Mycroft. "You can't be allowed to continue, you just can't. It's getting much to messy. You've had your fun, Mycroft. The great game is up."

"Mycroft…" John whispered.

"Yes, Dr. Watson, me. I am the instigator. But this was not a one man act. Mr. Moriarty, Miss Molly Hooper, and Dr. Frasier all played a part."

"And what part would that be?" Lestrade asked, phone in hand.

Suddenly, Mycroft made a run for the door, but Moriarty was faster. He blocked his way, but Mycroft pulled out a gun.

"Put the gun down, Mycroft," Sherlock said, cocking his own gun.

"Shooting your brother, Sherlock. Now what would that say about you?" The sound of running footsteps began to approach and Dr. Frasier and Mrs. Doerfler appeared in the doorway, both holding guns of their own. Mrs. Doerfler had no target, but Dr. Frasier had his gun pointed at Sherlock. One last gun was cocked, as Lestrade pointed his gun at Dr. Frasier.

"What are you doing?!" cried Lestrade.

Dr. Frasier didn't respond, but just looked at Mycroft. Mycroft smiled back, and nodded. Fast as light, Dr. Frasier changed his target and shot John, who had been sitting on his bed in silence. For a moment, time stopped; John felt like he was back in Afghanistan- everything in slow motion: guns firing, people yelling, others clutching their arms. Then he was reeled back to the present, observing what was happening.

After Dr. Frasier had shot John, but then Lestrade shot Dr. Frasier. Mrs. Doerfler fired at Lestrade, but hit Sherlock instead. Then, Moriarty had turned and aimed a gun a Mrs. Doerfler, but before he could fire, Mycroft slammed the butt of his gun on top of Moriarty's head, knocking him out. Sherlock tried to shoot Mycroft, but only hit the end of his coat, as he watched his brother run out the door and down the hall.


	16. Handcuffed

_**Handcuffed**_

**A/N: I'm sorry, I know this chapter is short, but there's a lot of text in it. I didn't want to move too quickly.**

"Someone stop him!" Lestrade yelled over all the commotion. John, who had been shot only in the arm, leaped up and ran out the door. Mrs. Doerfler ran after John. Lestrade ran to the door and handcuffed Dr. Frasier.

"John!" Sherlock cried, clutching his thigh where Mrs. Doerfler had shot him. A gun sounded from the hallway. Lestrade ran out of the hospital room, leaving an unconscious Moriarty and a handcuffed Dr. Frasier. John had been shot in the head by Mrs. Doerfler, and lay on the ground, bleeding. "No!" Sherlock yelled, as he shot Mrs. Doerfler. "Get Mycroft!" Sherlock barked at Lestrade, but he was already through the swinging doors.

Back in the room, Moriarty was coming to. He got up, rubbing his head and went to join the crowd. He examined the situation, Mrs. Doerfler and John on the ground, Sherlock kneeling over John. He nodded at Sherlock and took out his phone.

_Did you get him? - M_

A reply followed shortly after. _On our way up._

A few seconds later, the doors swung open again. Mycroft was in handcuffs being led by two men dressed in black.

"I was going to let you go, Mycroft… But then what fun would that be? After all, I am so changeable," Moriarty said with a sly smile.


	17. The Plot Thickens

_**The Plot Thickens**_

"But how did you-" began Lestrade.

"How did I know? Oh, please. I'm the consulting criminal might I remind you," Moriarty replied. "Thought you could get away, eh Mycroft?"

"They would have to be idiots to believe you," Mycroft spat.

"Oh. Well lucky for you they _are_!" Moriarty cried happily. To this, Mycroft only sneered.

"You won't get away with this!"

"Oops, looks like I already have," Moriarty smiled sarcastically. "Enough talk. Take him away to the car."

"Why don't you do it, Mr. Moriarty?"

"Oh, didn't Sherlock tell you? I don't like getting my hands dirty. No, no, that wouldn't do at all. Is that all Mycroft?" Moriarty asked innocently. Mycroft didn't respond, but just as the guards were going to take him away, Moriarty added something. "Wait, why did you do this Mycroft?"

"Don't you already know?"

"But these people," Moriarty gestured to those surrounding them, "do not."

"Well then, we shan't delay the truth any longer," Mycroft said. "The reason I did this was… You, Moriarty." All heads turned to Moriarty; though no one saw Mycroft cast a furtive smile at Jim.


	18. The Accusation of Molly Hooper

_**The Accusation of Ms. Hooper**_

"Me?" Jim said innocently.

"Moriarty! We should have known. Trying to help us-" Lestrade began angrily.

"Do you really think I would do something like this?"

"Yes!" everyone said together; including Mycroft.

"Trying to put the blame on someone else, eh Moriarty?"

_Well that's ironic…_ Moriarty thought. "I know who killed Cormac." Everyone look at Moriarty with shock; though Mycroft's face remained expressionless, yet full of hate.

"And who would that be, Mr. Moriarty?"

"Molly Hooper," Moriarty said boldly. He watched as everyone looked at each other, unsure if they had heard him right.

* * *

"In here," Moriarty said, as he lead Mycroft, Lestrade and Sherlock, who had a bandage on his wound, into a dark shack. John had stayed back in the hospital because he was too wounded to join them.

As Mycroft passed Moriarty, he hissed, "What are you playing at Mr. Moriarty?"

"What are we doing here?" Lestrade asked. A muffled voice answered him from the dark. "Who's there?!" Lestrade demanded, pulling out his flashlight.

"Wait!" Jim said. He stepped into the dark and came out with Molly Hooper, who was handcuffed and gagged. Her eyes lit up when she saw them.

Sherlock removed the gag, but before Molly could speak, he whispered, "So you're criminal of this great case?"

"What?" Molly said, breathlessly. "I don't understand." She looked at the party, but her eyes widened when she saw Mycroft; though it was too dark for anyone to see that.

"No," Sherlock said, putting the gag in his pocked, "you probably won't for a while."

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" Mycroft said.


	19. The Unbelievable Truth

_**The Unbelievable Truth**_

"Mr. Moriarty, would you care to elaborate?"

"Yes," Moriarty. "It's been fun, hasn't it, Mycroft? This little game; putting the blame on me, misleading everyone."

"You wouldn't.." Mycroft whispered.

"Oh but I would. I am the Consulting Criminal, and you are the British Government."

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you to hurry it up?" Lestrade asked angrily.

"I shot Molly, and captured her. I could have done much worse, but I didn't. I injected John, but you hired me, Mycroft. Isn't that right? Just give up."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"You honestly believe this criminal?" Mycroft inquired, shocked.

"You know, for once, your story doesn't seem that outrageous Moriarty... But nice try." Lestrade said.

"What?" Moriarty asked.

"You really expect us to believe this?"

"You see, Moriarty? Nobody believes you," Mycroft mused.

"Wait," Sherlock said. "He's right."

"What?!" Lestrade cried.

"I am the master of deduction, do you honestly not trust me?" Sherlock asked, thoroughly annoyed.

"Perhaps I underestimated you, dear brother," Mycroft said, smiling cruelly. "The case is closed. Well done, Sherlock."

"Hang on, Mycroft it was you?"

"Indeed. Though it wasn't all me. Much like the consulting criminal I dislike getting my hands dirty. Mrs. Hooper, Dr. Frasier, and Mr. Moriarty all played a part."

"Molly," Sherlock said.

"What?" Mycroft asked.

"Where is she?" Lestrade looked around. No one had seen her slip out, minutes before.


	20. Caught

_**Caught**_

The party stood around, confused as ever.

"She chooses now to run off?" John cried.

"I'll go-" Mycroft began.

"No. I will go," Sherlock said. "You, stay here with Lestrade."

"Sherlock-" Mycroft demanded.

"No, I think that's a good idea."

As Sherlock was leaving, Mycroft grabbed his arm. "You'll never find her…" he whispered.

"Oh?" Sherlock asked innocently. "Just watch me." With that, he tore away from Mycroft's grip and charged down the street.

* * *

Molly was running as fast as she could. _God, don't let them catch me…_ She ran until her legs could carry her no longer. She dipped into a clothing store and came out about an hour later completely disguised. She wore a skirt with a blouse and blazer; her hair was put in a tight bun, and she had earrings, other jewelry and small glasses, which she kept on her head. _That should do it,_ Molly thought to herself.

She walked to the side of a sidewalk and hailed a taxi.

"Can you take me out of town?" Molly asked, trying to make her accent sound Scottish.

"Yes, ma'am," the driver responded in a southern American accent without turning to face her.

Molly got in and after she was settled, she started looking about the car. There were no locks in the back, and there was a one way window between front and back seat. Molly couldn't see the driver or anything out the front window, which made her uncomfortable.

"Can you hear me?"

"Perfectly, ma'am."

"You have a peculiar cab, if you don't mind me saying so."

"No worries, I know it's a lot different from the British ones. So why're ya leaving the country, no imposition intended."

"I'm on a sort of escape. I need to get away from London."

"If you don't mind me asking ma'am, why?" the driver inquired politely.

"It's rather a secret mission."

"Your accent sounds both British and Scottish. Any reason why?"

"My mum was from Britain and my father was Scottish," Molly said, biting her lip. She realized that she hadn't had time to plan this part out. "So what's your story?"

"Ma'am?"

"When did you start driving? Where are you from? You sound American."

"I am. From Virginia originally, ma'am," the driver said confidently.

"You know, you don't have to keep calling me ma'am."

"Oh, all right. If you prefer I not, I won't. Don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. Where are you headed?"

"I'm not quite sure… Somewhere out of London, possibly even out of England," Molly remarked carefully.

Suddenly the car stopped. "Where are we?" Molly asked. The driver didn't respond, but one way windows came up in front of the regular window. The window between the front and back seat came down, but the driver didn't look at Molly.

"Molly, I know you're trying to run, but you can't now."

Molly rattled the doors, but they were locked and there were no locks in the back seat. "What have you done? Who are you?"

"I have done nothing; it is you who has committed a crime. As for who I am-" the driver then turned to face Molly and she gasped. _Oh no…_ she thought.


End file.
